Instinct
by Skylark Evanson
Summary: There is nothing more annoying for John than when Sherlock pauses in the middle of something. A sentence. Making dinner. But pausing in the middle of a sexy moment, that is easily the most frustrating.


**A/N: Alright, this is only like my third Johnlock fic. I've got an idea for another one, but I'm still trying to capture characters and get their dynamic right. So if you guys could just leave feedback and constructive criticism, I'd really appreciate it (:**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock or any associated characters.  
Warning: Definite sexual innuendos. Rated T for a reason.**

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_Instinct_

There is nothing more annoying for John than when Sherlock pauses in the middle of something. A sentence. Making dinner. But pausing in the middle of a sexy moment, that is easily the most frustrating.

Both were stripped down pretty well, John merely in his briefs and Sherlock stark-naked, his usual sleepwear. And just as the veteran was on the cusp of sleep's warm, dark embrace, Sherlock made his much-deliberated move; the detective had laid a small trail of light kisses along his veteran's neck, snapping the slumbering man right back into reality.

To let him know he was awake now, John had murmured, "Good to see you found your way to bed." He let a shiver roll through his elated body as he realized his lover's abs were pressed into his back and their legs were intertwined. The moment felt like Heaven. So rarely did Sherlock show he cared in such a manner...

"You know I don't like being terribly far from you, John." His lips continued their journey along a collarbone, across a shoulder, and then made the jump to whisper in John's ear, "Besides, it's early yet for you to actually be sleeping."

That sounded like a promise. And John was suddenly very aware of how little he was wearing and how tight that one article felt.

Sherlock carried on, a smile on his face and even a low chuckle in his throat as he noticed how well he'd woken up his boyfriend. All of his boyfriend. His arms had woven their way around John's torso and then his hands began to meander their way along his chest. Curious fingers drew shapes on his body as lips breathed sweet nothings into an ear and dropped tender kisses on an exposed neck.

John was genuinely surprised Sherlock had initiated anything at all- that was usually John's job. The detective generally just went along with whatever his boyfriend suggested due to the still-foreign concepts of love and lust as well as their associated symptoms and remedies. So to see Sherlock starting something up... It surprised him. But still, it brought a smile to his face and made him grin with satisfaction. This was the kind of affection John expected from the sort of flatmate-turned-boyfriend relationship they had, but he also knew Sherlock and understood his overly analytical mind. Any relationship with a high-functioning sociopath like him would be difficult.

Still, this moment had been a milestone, Sherlock stepping up like this...

The kisses had kept up along his neck, drawing plenty of content sighs from John and encouraging the veteran to curl into his lover even more, their bodies fitting together perfectly. Those curious hands and fingers continued to wander their course, tracing miscellaneous mysteries into his chest with a grazing touch, soothing and adoring. It took a few moments for Sherlock to begin his descent, but when he did, John shivered with excitement.

And that's when Sherlock stopped.

Warm hands suddenly froze. Kisses vanished into the darkness. Sweet nothings were stinted to silence.

John knew this feeling all too well; his whole body felt deflated within seconds. "You're thinking again, aren't you?"

Absolute silence. John felt more alone in the darkness than ever, despite still feeling Sherlock's hand on his abdomen and his warm, still-breathing body against his back. Physically, he was there, but his mind?; it was a million miles away.

With a malcontent sigh, John pulled out of his lover's frosty arms and hauled himself out of bed, limbs feeling heavy as lead. Any adrenaline had drained from his system, gushing out just as fast as all emotion had drained from his boyfriend. "It'd be great if you could stop thinking for five seconds, Sherlock." He huffed to further display his displeasure. "It barely even takes that long to get me off, you should know that." He was moving towards the door.

"I do know that," came a voice from the shadowy bed.

"Then turn off your brain."

"I can't."

John had his hand on the doorknob. By this point, if Sherlock's damned mind hadn't gotten in the way, he'd wanted his hand to be somewhere else by now. "You could at least focus."

"My mind wanders."

"Wanders from sex? Sherlock, really, you're absurdly-"

"It wanders to you when I'm working too, you know." The bed shifted as blankets rustled and a clean, well-built body moved.

"But this-," began John, now taking a step away from the door, almost stubbing his toe on the nightstand in the dark, "-is sex. This should operate off of instinct, off of lust. We don't need to think when it comes to getting it done. You don't need to add thought into the equation! There isn't even an equation for sex!"

"Technically there could be one considering you need-"

"Honestly, Sherlock?"

"My thoughts were running along the lines of what's the best means of getting you off, how late is it, how long can I keep you going, should I give it to you in the arse, and what gets you all riled up until you're so tightly wound the slightest touch can spring you." Sherlock rattled these off simply; the bed was still creaking as the detective continued to move about it, but his exact motions, John couldn't say due to the shadows encompassing the bedroom. Sherlock continued softly, "So I was thinking of you and how to really light you up tonight."

John felt his face flush hot with embarrassment and was glad that his boyfriend couldn't see it. He stumbled over a few "um"s and a quick "sorry" before taking a few padded steps back towards the bed to maybe see if he couldn't make amends with his lover.

"Now please." Sherlock's voice now sounded a bit labored. "Get over here and give me a hand. I'm tired of doing it myself."

Smirking, John crawled back into the bed and let his palm and eager fingers meander down this time, taking control and hearing Sherlock gasp and sigh with contentment while his own body lit up in the heat of the moment.

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**A/N: Leave a review? Thanks for reading.**

**~Sky**


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